Within a Stone's Throw
by Carnivorous Mushroom
Summary: It's a curious thing, really, to be standing right behind death's door.
1. Too Late

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Death note in any way, shape, or form.

**Note:** Well, here I am again, giving Death Note fan fiction another try. This is going to be a series of ficlets of the drabbly-type (if that's even a word, which of course Word marks as incorrect), chronicling the final thoughts and such of the main characters as they die. Depressing, no? Ah, well. First one up is L.

Enjoy!

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**Too Late**

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L suddenly stops speaking in the middle of his sentence, and for that brief moment; the only sound heard is the purring of dozens of monitors, and as L feels his chest tighten and begins to fall over the chair, he swears he could hear the continuous _tick-tock_ of a clock that's not there. For a split second, he wonders if it's the sound of his own life running out, in a metaphoric sense. _Strange_, since when has L been metaphorical?

L shatters the pure silence as he collides with the floor with a thump. He feels arms encircle his lithe form.

And it's _Light_.

Light, his prime suspect in this game of cat-and-mouse between himself and Kira. Golden Light, who's exceeded his parents – no, _everybody's_ - expectations by far. Perfect Light, who swears he never lies with the intention of hurting someone.

_Lies_. L knows full-well that Light lies about lying. L's no saint either, but he knows, and _oh does he know_, that Light's life _is _a lie. _He knows, he knows, he knows_! He wants to make one of his mordant remarks one last time because he's childish, but he can't. L will be a sore loser until the very end, but he finds he can't even force the words out of his mouth to whine.

L just stares, because that's the only thing he can do. His eyes are focused on that deceiving "portrait of perfection" that's staring down at him, condescending him with those cunning brown eyes of his. Those eyes that could switch from malice to innocence in a second.

And the maddening ticking of that invisible clock grows louder and louder in his ears, and memories that long lay forgotten in the dark recesses of his mind surface again – those chaotic memories of days, months, years long past.

The bells are ringing noisily as well, and he knows they're for a funeral, not a wedding.

_His funeral_.

And Light, he's smirking smugly, haughtily, because he thinks he's won, and L, he knew it, all along he knew it, and hell, his eyes are closing and a blanket of ever-lasting blackness is curtaining his vision; that sadistic smirk is fading away, and _oh he knew it! _Light is Kira and he should have arrested him when he had the chance, but…

But it's too late now.

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**Author's Note: **So yep, please review to tell me what you think. I love reviews. =3

On an interesting note, my own watch was ticking while I was writing this... Funny, no?


	2. Supernatural

**Carnivorous Mushroom Says:** Yeiii! I've finally gotten the chance to update this thing! Ah well, this next one's about Mello, so prepare yourselves for SUPER MEGA ANGST! 'Cause Mello's the embodiment of angst. Well, in my strange, little mind anyway. =D

Onwards to drabble number two!

**Warning:** On account of Mello's Catholicism, there will be religious themes! Thou hast been warned.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Death Note in any way, shape, or form.

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**Supernatural**

**--**

It's unbelievable, really. He is only just _twenty-years-old_ and already he knows his end is near. _Just twenty-years-old_ and already he knows he's going to die.

His hands are sweaty underneath sinful black gloves (how many sins had he committed with those gloves on?), and they are slightly shaking on the wheel.

_Matt is gone, _Mello thinks to himself. Auburn hair and blue eyes and orange goggles and black stripes are all tarnished in crimson red now, and all those colors mean nothing because he's _dead_ and it's all Mello's fault! Oh, poor Matt, just barely _nineteen-years-old_ and already he's nothing but a body empty of life.

_Sinner, sinner, sinner!_

That word reverberates inside Mello's mind like a mantra. His heart is heavy, for he has a guilty conscience – a sullied soul. He's clad in full black leather regalia, as usual, but he can't help but think that his clothes are especially appropriate for the day. Sinful black adorned with a sacrilegious silver rosary – how fitting for a day as morbid as this one!

Mello fingers his rosary, and he starts to pray.

_Why do you pray? God isn't going to help you, Mello._

_What do you know, Matt? _

Matt would say that there's no use in praying; Mello's death is imminent, but there's always a reason to pray, Mello thinks; God, Jesus, and Holy Mary, he never forgets to thank them.

_What has God ever done except make you suffer? Look at you – orphaned at five, disfigured at nineteen, and destined to forever be number two._

Somewhere in the distance, Mello hears the hushed tick-tock of a clock, and he thinks that maybe he's going mad, for he doesn't carry a watch, and he's sure the Takada woman wouldn't have one on her either.

_You don't believe in God._

_No. I don't._

It's too bad he's not going to live to see Kira's downfall. He would have loved to spit in that bastard's face – Light Yagami, the man who dared kill L, his fallen hero. And then Near, that little white sheep, how he'd loved to…

_Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock… Time has run out._

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**More of what C. Mushroom has to say**: Sorry if it was a little confusing, I kind of made it "stream-of-conscious-like" with Matt and Mello's past dialog inserted there all random and what not. I blame The Sound and the Fury for this. Well, at least I didn't mash up a whole paragraph with no punctuation whatsoever, right? If you have any questions, please do ask, and I'll be happy to clarify them.


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